


drown the night

by darkforetold



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amaurot (Final Fantasy XIV), Amaurotine Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Teasing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26460052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkforetold/pseuds/darkforetold
Summary: A collection of ficlets for Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light.Current:Lover's Quarrel(Humor). EmetWoL Valentine's Week.Hades gave Verity a chilly glare, but she didn’t see it, no. Too busy flipping over, taking even more of the blankets, then settling deeper into sleep. Snoring.The audacity.
Relationships: Azem/Emet-Selch (Final Fantasy XIV), Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 44
Kudos: 100





	1. Table of Contents

Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light drabbles. Mostly prompt-based; some from events like EmetWoL week, etc.! Tags are subject to change.

╒══════════════════╕

**Chapter 1 - Table of Contents** ;

 **Chapter 2 - "Light | Dark"** ; `For EmetWoL week. **Explicit**.`  


> Kissing her would be devastating.
> 
> But he’d always liked danger.

  
**Chapter 3 - "Ocean | Rain"** ; `For EmetWoL week. **Character death**.`  


> She had to find him. She must.
> 
> Beg him to put a stop to this. Or—

  
**Chapter 4 - "I Knew You Upon A Time | Kiss"** ; `For EmetWoL week.`  


> Shade. She needed shade—and now.
> 
> But she wasn’t the only one.

  
**Chapter 5 - "Sleep | Journey"** ; `For EmetWoL week.`  


> In her rooms at The Pendants, she’d fallen asleep in his arms and journeyed to a place and time she hadn’t known before this.

  
**Chapter 6 - "Fight | Heal"** ; `For EmetWoL week.`  


> She sought respite.

  
**Chapter 7 - "Masks | Embrace"** ; `For EmetWoL week.`  


> She always smiled when she saw that ever-wide grin. The very essence of it embodied happiness and mischief. Until one day, in the gardens of Amaurot, it didn’t.

  
**Chapter 8 - "Forget Me Not | Eternal Bond"** ; `For EmetWoL week.`  


> A wedding—first of its kind.

  
**Chapter 9 - "Without Another Word"** ; `Tuesdays.`  


> “I am here,” he whispered and reached out to kiss fingertips along her shoulder, down to the hem of her bedclothes, and without another word, lifted it up and off her battered body.

  
**Chapter 10 - "Love Letter"** ; `EmetWoL Valentine's Week.`  


> _“Roses are red. Violets are blue. Dare I day, I am quite desperate. And I love you.”_

  
**Chapter 11 - "The moment they fell in love/Teasing"** ; `EmetWoL Valentine's Week.`  


> _As the Convocation members filed out, Azem stopped and offered a brilliant smile, nodding her head—a thank you that sent his heart aflutter._

  
**Chapter 12 - "Flowers, Date, First Kiss, Dancing, and Sunset."** ; `EmetWoL Valentine's Week.`  


> _He would remember this moment beyond the end of his days._

  
**Chapter 13 - "Lover's Quarrel"** ; `EmetWoL Valentine's Week.`  


> _Who would have known that the Warrior of Light was such an insufferable bed hog?_

  



	2. Light | Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For EmetWoL Week. Prompt #1.

He woke up before she did, as the Everlasting Light peeked into the windows and lashed against his exposed skin. He didn’t mind so much, did he? Not when he was this close to her, watching her sleep. She stirred in his arms. Her eyes fluttered beneath her eyelids with dreams. This time, though, they weren’t nightmares, he could tell. She didn’t thrash in her sleep as horrid images cut at her, as bloodied screams tore her asunder. No, these were pleasant. Her plush lips trembled, then she smiled—who was with her in her dreams? 

He hoped it was him. 

At last, her eyes opened, shining like quicksilver. He thought she might retreat from him, realizing how wrong it was to awake in the arms of her adversary, but she didn’t. She smiled more, and the light of it nearly brought him to tears. Despite her current condition, all he could feel from her aether was happiness.

Even when she was dying.

The Warden’s Light feasted on her marrow, and when he brushed her cheek, he could feel its violence shutter under her skin. Like a monster beneath a glass lake, it surfaced just long enough to snap at him. It felt like he’d been taken to a blade over a single touch.

Kissing her would be devastating.

But he’d always liked danger.

He pressed his lips to hers, and she replied with delicacy—and fire. Her Light seared against his mouth, but he pressed on, giving her all of his passion. She licked the seam of his lips for more, and he obliged, rolling his tongue along hers. The pain was _exquisite_.

But even he, an Ascian, needed respite.

He broke away, if for but a moment, and brushed his thumbs along the ladder of her ribs. The Light threw itself at his darkness, drilling holes, puncturing his very soul. He would’ve gasped if he hadn’t lain with her before this. The shock and violence of her Light was known to him now—and all he uttered was her name.

Her groan was radiant, her insistence that he lay with her again almost blinding. She spread her thighs for him, and like a man destined to die, he pushed into her with a fractured breath. Her Light pierced his veil, and in his darkness, flowers blossomed—and agony flourished.

Let him die in her Light, then.

There would be no greater end than this.


	3. Ocean | Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For EmetWoL week. Prompt #2.

Rain pelted her battered body. The storm raged above her as she swam. Salt water threatened to choke her, and every breath above water burned her lungs. She was dying, and she knew it. Some part of her thought he, too, had known it all along. He’d set her on this path—to die by the Warden’s Light. And now, she sought him out. 

Alone.

She dove into the waves of the ocean. Deep and crushing, the blackness beneath claimed her, drawing her further down. All she could see was shadow and then, out of nowhere, a kelp forest of twisting spires and shapes she didn’t recognize. Pinpoints of light grabbed her attention—street lamps? A trick of her failing sight? She couldn’t know for certain. Only that her lungs were filling quickly. Not with water, no. But with the fierce Light she harbored within her body. A manifestation of doom that would be beset upon the world.

She had to find him. She must.

Beg him to put a stop to this. Or—

There. A familiar figure.

The ocean currents carried her weak body to him. With outstretched arms, he gathered her up—and it felt like coming home. He whispered something in her ear, but she couldn’t quite make it out. Had he said that very thing?

_Welcome home?_

Her mind buzzed with the possibilities. Please primed on her trembling lips. Instead of a singular word, her voice cracked, a splitting thing, and she cried out in pain. He held her closer, shushed her, and somehow, the desperation in her mind quieted. He’d take care of her, she knew. Here, in his arms, she thought of the rain. The salt of the ocean. In the time between ragged breaths, she thought of his warm smile. 

Touched his face…

and—


	4. I knew you | Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompts are _I knew you once upon a time_ and _kiss_. For EmetWoL week.

In the Everlasting Light of Rak’tika, the dying screams of a sin eater echoed. She pulled her sword from its gut and wiped her brow. In this blasted heat, the overlong exposure was due to awaken another headache. 

Shade. She needed shade—and now.

But she wasn’t the only one.

There he stood, tucked into the cool shadow of a great tree. His eyes burrowed beneath her skin. She should’ve been bothered, but instead, she found herself intrigued. Drawn to a man—an Ascian—she had only just met. Would he kill her, here in this lonely forest? Her friends wouldn’t be able to hear her scream.

Regardless of the danger, she angled toward him, and they soon shared the selfsame spot of dark refuge. He didn’t say anything. No quick wit to soil his tongue. Nothing by way of distaste. He didn’t lash out at her. Didn’t draw a blade or blast her with darkness.

He watched.

But there was something... _other_ flitting about under his skin. Like a moth without candlelight, it bounced around aimlessly—frantic. Imprisoned. A nervous sort of energy, like whatever it was, he was struggling to keep it in check.

She watched him as he watched her. Unlike her, however, it was him who fell apart before her eyes. Unraveling little by little until—

He grabbed her and pulled her close. His incredible warmth. The delicate way he handled her. She stood stunned in his presence; a peasant struck by the glory of a king. Gently, he tilted her chin up, and reverent still, he pressed his lips to hers.

This... adversary. She should’ve stopped him, but she didn’t. She gave into him instead, unhinging her jaw to allow him everything. He took of her sweetly, just so, making up for lost time with one he’d held so dear. 

_I knew you once upon a time—_

An intrusive thought, there and gone. And with the eternal summer breeze, whispering against her skin, she dared to open her eyes.

He was gone, but the divine touch on her mouth lingered still.

She vowed right then to uncover his secrets. No matter what the cost.

If only for another kiss...


	5. Sleep | Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep | Journey. For EmetWoL week.

In her rooms at The Pendants, she’d fallen asleep in his arms and journeyed to a place and time she hadn’t known before this.

Twisting spirals reached up toward the night sky like crooked fingers grasping for the stars. Below sat three figures, dressed in dark robes, each masked yet smiling. Two of them more mischievous than the final other. They spoke in a language she didn’t understand, in tones that sounded otherworldly. At their fingertips—the magic of creation.

One of them, in a mask of uninspired gray, with an ever-wide grin, summoned forth a small insect. It fluttered listlessly on the breeze, and to his dismay, his friends weren’t impressed. No matter. A small improvement was all it needed. 

He waved a hand, and it started to glow. His friends smiled, and he summoned forth their very own canopy of dazzling insects. They darted to and fro, weaving light and threading mystery.

Fireflies—the very first of their kind.

The serious one of the trio nodded his approval. And it was with the snap of fingers and a light flutter of a dismissive hand that the whole night sky exploded with pops and fizzles. Light and excitement on theatrical display. 

Fireworks—the very first of their kind.

The woman among them clapped. Her smile was radiant. From her fingertips, a paper lantern formed, affixed to it a small flame. It rose on its own accord, and floated away on the breath of the night. Make a wish.

Together, they wished upon her lantern that the three of them would remain together, no matter what befell them. And in this festival of light and love, they laughed, happy and cheerful—for it, too, was the first of its kind.

In her dream, she floated away, back to her rooms, back in his arms. Her reality came to her in pieces, and when she awoke, she saw in his eyes hope—for she alone was his festival of light, and more beautiful than any other creation.


	6. Fight | Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight | Heal. EmetWoL week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, I'm sorry this one is so short. I'm so overwhelmed with all the writing I've been doing lately. Please forgive!

The fight with the latest Warden had taxed her. Just enough for her to misstep and earn her a glancing blow from the monster’s claws. Alphinaud’s healing had only done so much. It had scarred her so deep, the fissure lingered still on her already suffering soul.

She sought respite.

—and she found it in his arms. He cradled her in her rooms at The Pendants, tracing her body with a fingertip. A long line up her side, a kiss of touch over her ribs, to her shoulder and down her arm. She sighed against him and curled around him. Safe and protected.

His fingers carried her on a journey through time. Over the scar Ysayle had left on her hip; the scratches of her study as a dragoon marring her stomach. Back down again, to her thigh, where Zenos had ruthlessly cut her. He mapped each one with such gentleness that it took her breath away. Then, softly, lips light as a feather, he kissed each one and soothed them with a whisper. 

_I love you,_ his kisses said. _I always will._

Her soul had never known a greater healing.


	7. Masks | Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masks | Embrace. EmetWoL week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but I love this silly trio. (Yes, in my stories, Hades has a cat and a bird. See 'Consider: The Cat' and 'Consider: The Crow'.)

She always smiled when she saw that ever-wide grin. The very essence of it embodied happiness and mischief. Until one day, in the gardens of Amaurot, it didn’t.

Their gloomy friend was ill, he’d said. Nothing serious, of course. But ill just the same, and seeing their mutual friend despondent made him, too, feel glum. She understood, for she too wasn’t quite the same when one of their trio was sad or unwell.

The two of them—they’d fix that, of that she was certain.

They visited his apartments near the Capitol, carrying a variety of his favorites. A good book by his favorite Amaurotine author; chocolates, flowers, and a new toy for his cat. Even his crow would get a new thing with which it could play. They also carried things to fight off illness; soup, vitamins, and a syrup one of the chirurgeons called medicine. All for their gloomy friend. They had been carrying so much that her friend had let slip his mask in public. Yet still, his grin was ever-wide. No one noticed, he’d said, and that was true.

With a joyful knock, they entered his apartments, filled with good intentions and cheer. But their gloomy friend was not glad for it—he never was. He complained they were making undue fuss, and that he’d be fine. They didn’t care and lavished him with their gifts anyway. It was a private setting, so they cast away their masks and did the unthinkable. They both embraced their gloomy friend, and surprisingly, he embraced them back.

Within a few days, after eating the soup and all the chocolate, their gloomy friend was still gloomy, yes, but no longer unwell. But it wasn’t the medicine that had healed him. It was their loving embrace.


	8. Forget Me Not | Eternal Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forget Me Not | Eternal Bond. The last day of EmetWoL week.

In her rooms at The Pendants, they fell asleep beside one another again, drifting lazily before following foot stones down, down, down into dreams. She journeyed to that place once more, where twisting spires reached for the twinkling night stars. In that selfsame garden. Again, the selfsame three figures: a woman and two men, one with an ever-wide grin and the second a bit gloomy but happy besides. This time, though, the woman beheld a bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots, beautiful in her shining robe of pure white. A celebration of an eternal bond. 

A wedding—first of its kind.

Strangely familiar, she thought in her dream, but then dismissed it as a silly trick of her imagination. Unless? Had these journeys truly happened once upon a time? 

The woman... almost looked like her, acted like her. And the gloomy man—was he? Had her beloved been—

So many questions, answers just out of her reach like petals taken by wind. What if—

In reality, back at The Pendants, she awoke with a start to find that her beloved was gone. In his place a bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots, the very selfsame from her dream. 

—and beside that a silent question in the form of a circle of infinity, of eternal bond: a ring of gold.

Never had she known such happiness.


	9. Without Another Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Without another Word

It tickled his spine—a pinprick of hyperawareness, a sixth sense that something was off as soon as he had reached the door of their shared private lodgings in Mor Dhona. Enough that when he stepped cautiously inside, he reached for his gunblade.

A drop of blood there on the hardwood floors. Another, then several more.

He found her on their bed, sitting upright and staring into a corner. Her white bedclothes smattered with _red, red, red_. Her blood or that of another? He didn’t know, but it happened like this sometimes, did it not? She would come home, worse for wear, far before she had estimated. Another mission gone horribly wrong. More deaths that she wore like a funeral shroud across her slumped shoulders. Screams that didn’t fade with the morning’s light.

As always, he would put her back together again.

“I am here,” he whispered and reached out to kiss fingertips along her shoulder, down to the hem of her bedclothes, and without another word, lifted it up and off her battered body.

It was her blood, he discovered. Nothing dire, thank her gods, but it needed mending nonetheless. She hadn’t gone to Krile, and he couldn’t mend her with magic. This gash... she wanted to remember it. Transcribe it to flesh and add it to the tapestry of scars and stories woven into her skin. A tribute or a warning, he wondered.

A sewing needle and thread would do for now, and he fetched both from her things. A flash of fire from his fingertips sanitized the slip of metal, and he set about mending flesh with fluid strokes, just like she’d taught him. Staring, silent, she didn’t flinch, but let a single tear fall from her cheek, as crystal in the hushed moonlight. 

It didn’t take him long. The damage to her soul wouldn’t mend as quickly, he knew. But, oh, he would try. 

He gathered her in his arms, running gentle fingers up and down her spine, and she let him. Together, they watched motes of dust dance in beams of light, and waited until memories faded on the sound of the wind.


	10. Love Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Day 1 of EmetWoL Valatine's Week: Love Letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Includes hints to Hades/Hythlodaeus. Eventually will become OT3.

_“Roses are red. Violets are blue. Dare I day, I am quite desperate. And I love you.”_

Hades halted his quill and sent Hythlodaeus a chilly glare. There, lying on the couch, taking another bite of his beignet, his dear friend chuckled to himself, completely oblivious to ire. Absolutely enraptured by his own terrible, insufferable wit. At his feet, Diacus chased about a balled up parchment of his pathetic attempts to woo.

The two of them were having a whale of a time, while Hades simmered and stormed at his desk. His mood formed thick and dark clouds, churning. Dangerous. 

“You are supposed to be helping me,” Hades hissed like levin from lips. “Not making me out to be a bloody fool.”

Hythlodaeus, ever sunny and clear, was not deterred. His dear friend affixed him with a feigned look of hurt. His face frosted with powdered sugar. “Are you not awed and inspired by my literary poems? Why, that piece alone rivals anything Lahabrea has ever uttered. Truly, the annals Amaurot will remember me as the romantic genius I am.”

“They will remember you as a complete and utter idiot, my dear Hythlodaeus.”

Hythlodaeus grinned. “And you for your sunny disposition. My, there has not been a day you have been dour. Do you even know the word ‘sorrowful’ or ‘pessimistic’? Absolutely not!”

Hades thundered his quill on parchment. “Can we _please_ concentrate on the task at hand?”

“Fine,” Hythlodaeus said, and it was lethal in its light-hearted finality. _“Roses are red. Violets are blue. I am a bashful fool. Lo, I want to fornicat—”_

“Hythlodaeus!”

Rich and mischievous, his dear friend let out a peel of laughter. Like silver bells glinting in candlelight. Fresh glittering snow on a chilly yet clear and sunny day. Beautiful. Heart-warming.

Irritating.

Hades hissed a gale of a sigh, slumping back in his chair, full of defeat. How could he put into words how much Azem meant to him? How truly he loved her in all sense of the word? His fingers grew numb at the thought of her, his mind slow and thick at the mention of her name. And Hythlodaeus—Hades glared at him again—was of no use.

Hopelessness seeped into his tired bones.

A perfect time for Diacus to leap into his lap and lay claim. 

Hades pet the fast-slumbering cat while Hythlodaeus hummed from the couch. A green spark of mischief flared across the stunning facets of his soul, and Hades huffed out another sigh before—

“I wonder what you would have done to woo me.”

Hades almost collapsed like a house of cards. The quirk of those lips. Blue eyes deeper and more mysterious than unexplored oceans. The cut of his handsome face. Hythlodaeus wiggled his eyebrows, and Hades cleared his throat. Struggling to stay in control.

“Hardly a need,” Hades stated evenly. “You fell willingly into my lap.”

A touch of pink kissed those cheeks. Hythlodaeus picked at the flaky crust of his beignet before popping it into his mouth. Then, he said, “I wonder if you would have toiled.”

Jealousy’s pinprick marred the deep green of his soul. But it didn’t spread. It existed and, just as quickly, fizzled out of existence. More green, vibrant and flush, as far as the eye could see.

“I toiled enough on those sweets,” Hades said, pointing. 

Hythlodaeus stuffed the rest in his mouth. “For half a bell, at most.”

“I have toiled every waking moment since I have met you, Hythlodaeus,” Hades shot back.

Scandalized, his dear friend put a hand to his chest. “Hades, _please_. Now is not the time for bedroom talk. Concentrate on wooing Azem.”

Wooing Azem.

An impossible feat that turned his spine to liquid. Limp and defeated, Hades let the comfort of his chair take him. His courage, his spirit—dissipated under the enormity of the task. He pet Diacus as his only refuge, and only noticed Hythlodaeus had approached his desk when his dear friend knocked on it.

He looked up into sparkling eyes of fairest blue.

“Amaurot is abuzz with talk of love languages, my dear Hades. Some of us are gifted with weaving words, they say. Others have different gifts, and express their love in different ways. Even so, a few of us are so undeniably charming and witty we do not need a love language at all.” Hythlodaeus winked and swept up his hand in a grand gesture, kissing it gently. “You are not one of those, and your love language has never been of vocal expression, but of _doing_. Declare your love the only way you know how, and surely, your Azem will be touched.”

Hades frowned at Hythlodaeus, his retreating form, his turned back. “Now is not the time for your riddles.”

“I am absolutely certain you will discover your answers in due time,” his dear friend said, waving. Leaving.

“Hythlodaeus!”

But he didn’t answer. Gone was he in the next breath.

His office closed in on him then. Dark and lonely, with only Diacus’ gentle purring to keep him sane.

:::

Love languages.

Hades fretted over the term, the bewildering puzzle of it all on the day Azem was finally set to return from her latest adventure. Respite was what she would need, Hades knew, and he fussed about his apartment for hours. Cleaning the spotlessness of his space anew, straightening pillows that were already perfectly plump and neat. He cooked her favorite meal, baked her favorite sweets. Trussed up Diacus with a bow around his neck—orchard pink, her favorite color. Still woefully wondering what he might present her with to declare his love.

For even still, he had no letter. All was lost.

His Azem arrived with a soft knock on the door and ribbons of lilac and vanilla. His heart fluttered, and as always, that damnable inspiration to _create, create, create_ tingled at the tips of his fingers. And on cue, as it always happened, tiny butterflies of brilliant shifting color appeared to celebrate her presence.

They barely spoke a word. He leaning against his desk, and she filling her mouth with food and sweets like she hadn’t eaten in days. Finally, with a contented sigh, she sat back on the couch and rubbed her full stomach. Diacus plopped down next to her and purred, and Azem pet him with abandon. A butterfly landed in her hair.

“Oh, dearest Hades,” she whispered. The orchard pinks of happiness warmed her soul. “You always know how to make me so happy.”

Hades flushed a little, then cleared his throat. “I—“

“What is all this talk about love languages?” she asked suddenly, “Amaurot is practically brimming with it.”

“Riddles and nonsense.”

“Is that so?” But she didn’t seem convinced. Azem quirked her lips. “What does Hythlodaeus say about it? He usually understands riddles and nonsense.”

Hades crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. “A way of expressing one’s love. Writing. Doing. Hythlodaeus thinks himself so charming he simply does not need one. As I said, complete and utter nonsense.”

She wasn’t listening, too entranced with a balled up parch—

_“Roses are red. Violets are blue. I am a bashful fool. Lo, I want to fornicat—“_

“No!”

Hades leapt forward and snapped the parchment from her, clutching it to his chest. His face burned with embarrassment, and shame rotted his soul through and through. But Azem, dear and beautiful Azem, just laughed. It filled the room with its warmth, and heated parts of him long-forgotten and frozen. Despite himself, Hades laughed too. It was rich, and in so doing, his burdened shoulders felt lighter.

“Hythodaeus’ doing?” Azem knew, like she’d always known. “He isn’t as good with his words as he insists. Nay, his love language is not words either, but in making others feel happy and safe and loved. He makes us laugh when the world around us seems dark and hopeless.”

Hades pursed his lips and thought. “Yes. I regret to say, you are indeed right about him. Even more regretful, however, is that I lack one entirely.”

“Lack a love language? Now that truly is absolute nonsense,” Azem countered and fanned out her hand. “As much as you will deny it, yours is in the service of others. Who else would cook and bake my favorite things? And clean and fuss over the impossible? And dress Diacus up with a bow just because I find it adorable? None other.”

“But—“

“No,” Azem interrupted. “I look forward to coming home just because of this. Nowhere else can I safely collect my thoughts and stay in the quiet for as long as I need after an adventure. You allow me that time to decompress, to breathe, to simply exist without a pressure in the world. That is… a priceless gift for which I cannot thank you enough. This is your love language, and I love it. And—”

She swallowed hard.

“I love _you_.”

It struck him like a bolt of levin, and Hades sputtered for a moment. He stared at her openly, then, so overcome with a flood of exhilaration, he laughed. It was relief and love all at once. When she looked up, joined in with her giggles, their song together was… breathtaking. It made him feel… impossibly whole.

Hades dropped his eyes to the floor when their laughter subsided. He couldn’t help but smile. Wide and true for the first time in days. 

“And I you,” he whispered.

And for a long time, they blossomed in their revelation, sharing quick and bashful smiles. For the rest of the night, they shared tales and news. Excited yet too afraid to do naught more than chatter on about everything and nothing until the wee hours of the morn.


	11. Moment/Teasing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Two of EmetWoL Week: "The moment they fell in love" and Teasing.

“It stands to reason that, no, we simply cannot change your predestined role. Who else among us would read the stars? Decipher their secrets? None other but you, Azem,” Lahabrea blustered.

“But I can read the stars from other lands! The celestial bodies in the Forlorn Labyrinth. The suns and their planets from the highest mountain on the island of Merelynth. Not only would I adventure, and behold wondrous sights of far-off lands, but I, too, would fulfill my duties. The readings of our future, our destinies, will not be set askew if I am here in Amaurot or malms away, I assure you. Please.”

The Convocation murmured amongst themselves while Lahabrea and their newest member, Azem, faced off in the middle. Under his stare, she held her shoulders straight and defiant, and Hades couldn’t help but take notice. Her silver eyes sparkled beneath her mask, this he could see—and the passion with which she spoke and fought awakened him anew. Never had a Convocation meeting been so… palpable. Almost exciting.

The wide eyes, the eager faces of his peers. He knew the Convocation wholly agreed.

Lahabrea huffed. “What makes other lands so thrilling? Is the safety and glory of Amaurot not enough for you?”

“Of course, it is. Never have I seen a more beautiful city—“

“Then…?”

“—but have you witnessed the sunset in the Eastern Reaches? Caught the scent of a blooming Iridian? The grapes on there are the most delectable I have ever tasted.”

“Grapes, you say?” Hythlodaeus came alive suddenly beside him.

Hades elbowed him in the ribs.

“Yes! Grapes and so much more,” Azem enthused, flashing a brilliant smile to his dearest friend. In that moment, Hades knew a pang of jealousy. Gone as quickly as Azem turned to Lahabrea. “I could bring so much back to Amaurot. Beautiful things, as well as the readings of the stars. If only you would let me.” 

Her pleas sparked a cacophony of excitement among the Convocation. 

“Gifts from other lands,” he heard, “Oh! How inspiring!”

“With them, we could build upon these ideas. The Iridians here would smell even more wonderful!” another added.

“I like grapes,” Hythlodaeus helpfully contributed.

“Enough!” Lahabrea exclaimed, “Azem will fulfill her duty here _in Amaurot_ like we previously agreed. Nothing more. We do not need creations from other lands nor their inspirations. Might I add that either could be potentially dangerous? Have you not thought of all the implications?”

The Convocation went silent.

Hades drilled hot coals into Lahabrea’s cheek. Their eyes met. Lahabrea sneered.

The absolute thrill of defying him…

“Perhaps we should vote,” Hades offered, “That is, unless you wish to debate?”

Quiet gasps rippled among the members.

“You have not debated in a century,” Lahabrea leveled.

“I had not the need. I find that today, right now, I do. Wholly do I agree that Azem should adventure to distant lands as her heart desires, and bring us back its gifts and star readings. And any who would go against me will find that I have all the time in the Amaurot to argue my points. Do you dare?”

Lahabrea notched his chin up, his boorish face haunted by the prospect. At length, his colleague swallowed and hissed out, “A vote then!”

It was unanimous. Azem would adventure.

As the Convocation members filed out, Azem stopped and offered a brilliant smile, nodding her head—a _thank you_ that sent his heart aflutter. Never had he witnessed such a passionate display of bravery, of staying true to one’s self. For once, he felt… inspired—and he smiled.

Hythlodaeus leaned in, practically oozing. Hades didn’t need to look to see his dearest friend’s soul sick with mischief. An emerald glittering in sunlight.

“Is that orchard pink, I see, dearest Hades?” Damn his soul sight. “Are you smitten with her? How romantic! I _so_ look forward to how this will unravel. Even if I help you woo her, I positively think she shall eat you alive! Maybe even the both of us. Quite exciting.”

“Those grapes you were so interested in?” Hades cut in with a glare. “I will see to it you never taste a single one.”

Hythlodaeus fixed him with a pout. “Lo! I never thought you to be so cruel.”

And so it was. Hades had fallen madly in love with Azem in that moment, and Hythlodaeus would undoubtedly see fit to forever tease him.


	12. Flowers/Date/First Kiss/Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days 3, 4 and 5 of EmetWoL Week: Flowers, Date, First Kiss, Dancing, and Sunset.

_“Is that your idea of a perfect first outing? An old, dusty eatery?”_

Ever since Hythlodaeus uttered those words, with his nose scrunched up in distaste, Hades doubted his plans. That lack of confidence followed him throughout the suns leading up to it. To the bell, the minute before he set his eyes on Azem, beautiful in her pristine robe, smelling of lilac and vanilla. Here, under the streetlight, in front of the eatery, Hades hadn’t witnessed a more lovely sight.

Lo, he could not enjoy it.

Nervousness rotted him through, and Hades approached the eatery’s host with timid steps and a slumped spine. The host brightened at his approach, but he, too, seemed nervous. No. _Fretful_.

“Oh, Honorable Emet-Selch,” the host greeted. Cheerful yet strained. “Are you here for your outing?”

“A strange question.” Hades immediately narrowed his eyes. “It is the appointed time, is it not? I would not be late nor early. And you accepted my reserva—“

“My apologies,” the host hastened, “But I am afraid your outing here at the eatery has been cancelled.”

“Cancelled?” Hades echoed. He looked over his shoulder and gave Azem a reassuring smile. But she was too busy humming to herself, smelling a bushel of pink flowers. He turned back to the host in earnest. “Let me make myself perfectly clear. I have planned this outing for _weeks_ to ensure its perfection. And you inform me _now_ that all is for naught? Why? Why is it cancelled?”

“Well, you see,” the host swallowed hard, stammering, “We have a bit of an incident on our hands.”

“What incident?” Hades huffed. “Spit it out.”

“There is a fire sprite loose,” the host blurted, “Here, at the eatery. It is making quite the mess of things, I must say. Nothing too catastrophic, mind you. A few tables have been lost in the fray. But, unfortunately, we cannot allow guests. You do understand, do you not?”

Hades simmered on the spot, as panic soured his gut. 

“A fire sprite?”

“A fire sprite,” the host confirmed.

“How is that possible? That concept is under lock and key at the Bureau of the Archit—“

Hades choked on his next breath.

_Hythlodaeus._

The host opened his mouth, but Hades cut him off with the sharp raise of his hand and turned away. Still lost in her world, Azem took one last sniff of petals, then flashed him a smile. Her sunny disposition didn’t waver when she noticed the trouble brooding on his face. “Is aught amiss, dear Hades?”

How could he tell her their outing was over? It had barely begun. All of his careful planning—gone to waste.

As he was sinking further and further into despair, something shimmering and green caught his eye. A green butterfly. Not one of his then, for his were always the color of Azem’s beautiful soul. This insect was of a different hue, an unmistakable one. As green and as mischievous as—

It flew into his face, and Hades swatted it away, glaring. Unfazed, the butterfly returned, just as stubborn and impossible as its obvious creator. Again, in his face for good measure, before fluttering off to a path unknown. Hades narrowed his eyes and followed.

“Where are we going?” Azem quipped behind him.

“Following this… pest,” Hades grumped, storming behind it.

“What pest?” came the chime of her voice.

Could she not see it? 

The butterfly kept its pace, weaving among the streets. Hades fully expected a cliff to appear out of nowhere, for him to tumble to his doom—a more palpable end than this farce of an outing. Just as he’d counted all the ways he’d get back at Hythlodaeus, the rows of hedges opened up and before them lay a magnificent sight.

A picnic set for two, spread out in front of a breath-taking view of Amaurot.

Azem gasped and surged forward, giggling. Picking up a bouquet of three dozen Iridians and whirling around. Her face was aglow, her soul flush with the purest hue of orchard pink. Above them twinkled a million dazzling stars, and Azem bloomed at the sight of them.

“Hades,” she whispered, in awe, “This is… more perfect than I could ever have dreamed.”

The green butterfly flew into his head, and if insects could smile, it surely would have.

When Hades turned, it was gone.

“Dance with me!”

She swept him up with her joy, and before he could register his unsure feet, Hades was dancing with her. Every touch of her skin against his own sent a jolt up his spine. His face grew flush, but if she had noticed, there was no indication. Only happiness in her eyes and warmth in her soul. There, under the stars, they twirled like children, chasing blooms in the air and the butterflies he couldn’t help but create. They laughed. Smiled. And then he did something he never imagined… 

Hades took off his mask and threw it aside.

Azem stopped dead and gasped. 

In public. Without a mask. Surely, nothing could be more scandalous.

For a moment, he doubted himself. Had he gone too far? But before he could scramble for it, the brightest shade of pink—no, a red so deep, so faceted it didn’t have a name—burst across her soul. Oranges, pinks, reds… he couldn’t make sense of it. But when she threw off her own mask, grabbed his face and kissed him, he realized.

It was the color of her love.

An Amaurotine sunset of absolute, pure adoration. 

Hades returned her kiss, unsure hands fluttering to her hips, then backing away entirely. Only when she closed their distance did he wrap his arms around her, their kiss mending him in ways he never thought possible. He knew nothing but happiness and love. And he would remember this moment beyond the end of his days.


	13. Lover's Quarrel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EmetWoL Valentine's Week: Lover's Quarrel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains 5.0 Spoilers. This is set after Emet-Selch's death, where he's brought back and is as grouchy as ever. [Fire and Silk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26248936/chapters/63892099) has a bunch of their adventures!

Another lucid dream. 

Flames. Screams.

The Final Days. 

Hades woke with a start, and darkness whirled around him, threatening to close in. He shivered despite himself and clawed desperately for the blankets, but found nothing. Not even an ilm of fabric. Was he still in their shared rooms in Mor Dhona? Or had his nightmares finally consumed him utterly?

Something shifted beside him. A monster borne of—

— _ice._

Reality snapped together. 

Rain outside their window. Their room.

Their bed.

Her ice-cold feet freezing his skin.

Hades gave Verity a chilly glare, but she didn’t see it, no. Too busy flipping over, taking even more of the blankets, then settling deeper into sleep. Snoring.

The audacity.

He glared at her in the darkness. Ill tidings seeped into his bones. Oh, how he wished for slumber, for warmth. And how dare she sup greedily on that which he could not have. In that moment, she punctuated his woes with a snortle and a chime of sleep-drunk laughter. Mocking him.

To hells with her.

Without remorse, he tugged on the blankets, claiming enough to cover his feet. Warm relief lasted a second. For in the next, she grumped and raided, yanking back with her gods-slaying strength. Leaving him to simmer anew with naught but his bedclothes. She kicked him lightly for good measure in her half-asleep triumph.

Who would have known the Warrior of Light was such an insufferable bed hog?

Two can play.

“ _Please_ allow me some of these blankets, you wicked girl,” came his hiss.

He tugged, and she yanked.

“You have enough,” Verity grouched back.

“I have naught but a dream of what blankets might feel like,” Hades snapped.

“I barely have any!”

He looked at her, bewildered. She sleepily glowered at him from her fortress of quilts. Then, promptly, she tumbled into another bout of deep sleep.

For a quarter bell, he traced the cracks in the ceiling. Thinking. Plotting. _Scooching._ He ilmed closer and closer until their bodies touched. Until he, with a smug smile, enveloped her in his arms, knowing she hated it.

Too hot, she’d said over and over again. Training him to stay on his side. 

And like always, she stirred.

Verity pushed at his hip, and when he wouldn’t budge, tried to scoot away. Eventually hissing out, “Move over!”

“I am afraid I cannot, Your Highness,” he whispered, petulant, “There is no room. I am at the edge.”

He was clearly not.

“It’s _too hot_ ,” she cut out, “ _Move over._ ”

“No.”

Always the dirty fighter, she put her cold feet on him once more, and he practically leapt away with a squeak. Yet again defeated and with no blankets to claim as his own.

Revenge tended to be sweet.

Soft, almost gentle, he positioned his feet square in her back, then—slowly and incrementally—he pushed, ilming her to the edge of the bed—and off with a satisfying thud. 

Freedom.

He hoarded the blankets, counting the secon—

“Are you mad!?”

Her silver eyes glinted in the dark, and she launched herself at him. But he was quicker. Twisting himself in the blankets and bundling himself up. Just because he _could._

“Give me the covers!” she hissed, “Did you just wrap yourself tighter? I said! Give. Me. The. Blankets!”

“No.”

Somewhere, a thundering noise. It sounded of a fiery beast hell-bent in taking them all in Calamity—

“Here! Take mine!” cracked a levin voice.

A pile of covers swallowed them whole.

Alisaie glared at them once last time, then stomped out of the room. “Children!”

Verity and Hades took a share of their new bounty and glowered at each other, before settling down on their respective sides. Warm, pleased, Hades finally found peace, in sweet dreams of sunlit fields in the early days of Amaurot.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you want a place where you can scream about Emet-Selch* and be totally, completely accepted and loved? Come over to [Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/ctR3S9H). We'd love you have you! ♥
> 
> * ~~or any other character in FFXIV~~


End file.
